


a backless dress and some beat-up sneaks

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Lance Hunter is a snarkmaster, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scratching, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: After spending a night with her ex-husband, Bobbi wakes up to find she has a very visible problem.





	a backless dress and some beat-up sneaks

Bobbi loved waking up to someone else in bed, a luxury she’d rarely been afforded when she was a new agent. Even when she had to sleep with a mark (which, thankfully, wasn’t often), she always left with whatever she needed before morning came. Thinking about it now, there’s only two people in the world she’s woken up next to more than thrice - and for one of them, they only ever slept together in the literal sense.

The other one is, of course, Hunter, and here she is, waking up next to him, again.

They’re tangled in the sheets and each other, and Bobbi shifts uncomfortably at the feeling of the dried sweat at the small of her back, and all over her skin. They’d cleaned up all the other fluids involved, but neither of them had really wanted to shower. _It’s_ _late_ , they’d said. _Leave_ _it_ _for the morning_.

Now that it’s morning, Bobbi regrets that decision.

She stretches lazily, relishing in the slight twinges of her muscles as she extracts herself from Hunter. He’s still sleeping soundly, and Bobbi takes a moment just to look at him. She hears his voice in her head -  _ watching me sleep now, Bob? _ \- and rolls her eyes at the thought of him catching her staring, and manages not to look back down. There’s too much softness in her gaze when she watches him sleep, anyways. 

Neither of them bothered putting clothes back on last night (why would they?) so when she walks into the bathroom, she’s naked, and there is a clear view of her back in the mirror.

“What the hell?” Bobbi storms back into the bedroom, and grabbing an abandoned pillow, she pelts it at her ex-husband. Luckily for both of them, Hunter’s always been a light sleeper, and he jolts awake at the impact. He scrambles up, looking around wildly before his gaze rests on Bobbi.

“Got to be honest, love,” Hunter arches an eyebrow. “This wasn’t the sort of wake-up I expected.” He grins at her, cocky as everloving hell, and Bobbi’s nostrils flare. His smile fades as he realizes how genuinely pissed she is, and he twitches his head to the side in askance, blinking at her with those stupidly distracting hazel eyes as he waits for her to explain why she’s so angry.

“Look at this.” Bobbi hisses, turning around to present her back. There are angry pink lines stretching from her shoulders to her waist, leaving absolutely no question as to what activities she and Hunter were up to last night. Generally, there wasn’t question in the first place, but - Bobbi lets out a frustrated groan.

“I was supposed to go to that stupid gala thing tonight, and my dress is  _ backless _ .” She complains to Hunter, collapsing onto the bed with a defeated sigh. She’s either going to have to ask Coulson to be taken off the mission or find a new dress, stat. There’s no way she can cover all of the marks with makeup - half of her damn back is pink and raw.

“Poor baby,” Hunter drags her close enough to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek, and Bobbi pushes his face away with a huff. 

“This is all your fault,” she grouses.

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” 

Bobbi doesn’t need to look up to know that he’s smirking, and rolls her eyes. His fingers ghost across her shoulders and down her side, presumably tracing the lines of one of his many claw marks, and she shivers.

Hunter hums, repeating the motion - this time, though, he doesn’t use the pads of his fingers. His nails aren’t pressing as hard as last night, but they’re definitely there, and Bobbi can’t help the way the heat begins to pool in her belly.

“I didn’t mind last night,”  she admits begrudgingly, flipping over so Hunter can’t keep distracting her with his unfairly talented hands. But the damage is done with his soft touches, and Bobbi has to try valiantly to keep her eyes from straying below Hunter’s waist.

“I’m sorry, love.” Hunter’s voice is surprisingly sincere. He leans down to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. “I didn’t know about the gala, or I would have been more careful.” 

“You mean you weren’t coming as my date?” Bobbi’s brow wrinkles in confusion.

She’d assumed her partner for the Gala was Hunter, Coulson seemed fond of partnering them, especially if the situation was vaguely romantic. God knew, no one else on the team could flirt worth a damn. The thought of any other team members flirting with Hunter sends a prickle of unease down her spine; she’s more possessive of her husband - well,  _ ex-husband  _ \- than she likes to let on. 

Hunter moves closer, as if he's sensed her thoughts, brushing his lips against hers. The heat that abated flares up again, and Hunter, damn him, was ready to stoke the flame.

“Nope.” He pops the p sound, but doesn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation. Leaning closer, Hunter drags his lips along her jawline, his breath hot against her neck. He throw his leg over her hips so he’s straddling her, and when Bobbi feels his cock bump against her thigh, she bites her lip.

“You know what this means?” she purrs, breath hitching slightly as his stubble rasps against her skin.

“What?” he asks, slightly breathless from kissing her neck.

“I can return the favor,” Bobbi replies smugly. 

Hunter removes himself from her neck to look at her, pupils dilated. He nods dumbly, and Bobbi smiles at him. 

“And,” Bobbi continues, reaching up to pull his head back against her neck. “A few more marks won’t do me any harm.” Hunter latches on again, obviously taking her statement as a challenge. She’s so focused on the wet heat of his mouth on her neck that she’s momentarily shocked when his fingers find her nipple, his callouses rolling against the sensitive skin in a way that makes her feel slightly dizzy.

Bobbi’s certain that there are bruises blooming like roses on her throat, and she shudders a little at the thought of being marked by Lance. Her earlier musings on possession come roaring back, gasoline on the already raging fire inside of her. There’s something irresistible about marking and being marked, and Bobbi hums her approval of Hunter’s attention.

It takes her a moment to remember that she had promised reciprocation, and Bobbi lifts her arms from her sides to rest on Hunter’s shoulders. She’s not used to bottoming, a fact that should surprise exactly no one. It’s a little strange, especially since Hunter’s not actually inside her - something he should remedy soon, Bobbi thinks.

As if reading her mind, Hunter removes his hand from her breast, trailing down her stomach to reach the apex of her thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps. Even though Bobbi knows it’s about to happen, her hands still tighten on Hunter’s shoulders when he dips his fingers between her folds. She can feel her nails digging into his skin, and Bobbi doesn’t bother suppressing her soft moan of appreciation at the sensation.

“Somebody’s ready,” Hunter murmurs, pumping his fingers once or twice - enough to make Bobbi’s hips twitch a little, but not enough to make her do anything more than that. 

“Are you really asking me to stroke your ego at a time like this?” Bobbi bites out.

“No, but there are other things I wouldn’t mind you stroking,” he smirks. Any chance Bobbi had at forming a coherent reply dissolves as he presses his thumb over her clit, circling it with practiced ease.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Bobbi manages, raking her nails down Hunter’s back. She watches his composure slip as she does, and pants out a chuckle. No more snarky comments from him would be forthcoming, she’s sure.

Hunter briefly meets her eyes, checking to make sure she really is ready before pushing into her. Bobbi’s eyes slide closed as she lets the sensation of him inside of her wash over her like a wave. She really needs to stop mixing her metaphors, Bobbi thinks, because there is nothing wave-like about this sensation. It’s not water, waiting to slake her thirst - it’s just more fuel for the blaze inside her.

Hunter’s hips snap against hers again, and Bobbi doesn’t think of any more metaphors. She doesn’t think at all, just  _ feels _ . One of the best things about having the same sexual partner for the better part of a decade is that he knows her body almost as well as she does. He knows how to get her off - but he also knows how to keep her hovering on the edge, earning each muttered curse and claw at his back as he thrusts his hips and toys with her clit.

Both of them are close; Bobbi can hear it in the way their breathing is ragged around the edges, and feel it in the way they both keep almost losing their rhythm, his hips stuttering against her upward thrusts every few strokes. The problem with losing rhythm is that they can’t  _ quite _ get over the edge, a problem that they’ve had more than once before when they spend too long teasing each other.

“Pull out.” Bobbi grits her teeth as Hunter withdraws, every nerve ending in her protesting the lack of completion. She scratches another long line against his spine, the pain of the scratches the only way she knows how to show him how frustrated she is by this turn of events, even if she knows he’s equally upset.

The good thing about having had this problem before is that they know exactly how to fix it. Hunter’s already moving down the bed, pressing hot, messy kisses across her chest and stomach. He doesn’t pause even a moment before latching onto her clit, and the sensation is so overwhelming that Bobbi lets out a moan that startles her with its volume. If Hunter’s equally startled he doesn’t show it, his tongue flicking across the excited bundle of nerves. 

“ _ Lance _ .” Bobbi gasps, her hips bucking up. Hunter presses his palms against her hip bones to pin her to the bed as he continues working his mouth over her. It doesn’t take much longer - less than thirty seconds - for her to finally reach her climax, his name stuttering off her tongue as she cums.

About another thirty seconds later, Bobbi’s head has cleared enough to realize that Hunter still hasn’t finished. She knows it’s not a requirement for both of them to finish, but she also knows that he had been as achingly close as she had. She props herself up on her elbows to see that he hasn’t moved from his place between her thighs. She’s about to make a comment to him when she realizes that his hips are moving, thrusting against the bed as he makes little strangled groans.

Bobbi’s somewhat curious to see if he can actually get off that way, humping the bed like a teenager, but after a minute of watching him rut against the bed with no release, she begins to think that she’s just making herself complicit in his torture. 

“Come here,” she commands.

He doesn’t hesitate to obey, presenting himself to Bobbi without any comment besides a needy whimper.

She wraps a hand around his cock, slick from her arousal and his precum, and listens to the soft wheeze that Lance makes - a sob of need that doesn’t have enough air behind it. She doesn’t bother teasing him further, figuring that their failure to orgasm together, followed by more self-imposed delay, was more than enough for Hunter. Bobbi can’t help the self-satisfied smile on her face when he cums saying her name.

They lay in a boneless heap for a handful of minutes before Bobbi lets out a long-suffering sigh. “We really need to shower.” Now they have two layers of sweat to wash off, not to mention Hunter’s cum.

“You just want to admire your handiwork.” Hunter grumbles. He gets out of bed, and Bobbi has to admit, he’s at least a little bit right about that. She likes the way his back looks covered in her nail marks, the possessive side of her pleased that he is so visibly  _ hers _ .

“We match,” Hunter says, tapping the side of her neck. Bobbi doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know that there’s a hickey there. She’s embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t even noticed the collar of wine-colored bruises that wraps around Hunter’s neck. But she likes the way they look, and her expression must give that away.

“I like them, too,” he pulls her out of bed so he can kiss her. His tongue slides into her mouth, and Bobbi shivers at the taste of herself. Hunter smirks when he pulls away, and Bobbi just shrugs at him. What can she say? She understands why he enjoys going down on her so much.

“So,” Bobbi asks as they wander back into the bathroom. “What’s going to be our excuse for Coulson?” She reaches to turn on the shower.

“You mean you don’t want to tell him that I scratched the shit out of you while we fucked?” Hunter’s lips quirk into a smile.

“Oh, shut up,” she rolls her eyes.

“You love me,” he teases, stepping into the shower.

“I do,” she agrees easily, joining him under the hot spray.

Maybe if Hunter’s lucky, Bobbi thinks, she’ll show him just how much she loves him - again. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting smut, so please be gentle with me. <3
> 
> Thanks to [whistlingwindtree](https://whistlingwindtree.tumblr.com/) for the beta!


End file.
